Astronomy
by Darkhymns
Summary: Old. An unoriginal story about Shadow falling to his death. So of course, it's the perfect time to reminisce.


**Written five years ago, so it's nothing special. Fixed it up slightly, but it's not a story I care so much about anymore~ Currently working on something else that will hopefully be better than this. But I simply felt like putting this up. This started off as a little experiment for a multi-chapter story, but will now just remain an unfinished oneshot. So I dunno, someone else continue it maybe.  
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**Takes place after Sonic Adventure 2, and ignores what came after, as I'm sure some of you may do when concerning this character. :P Try to enjoy and junk. (And try to guess what song the title is from).  
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_**Astronomy**_

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She always loved to look at the stars. Her eyes reached out to them, trying to pick them off from all that nothingness. She often told him how much she loved them, just as she loved the blue sphere suspended before them.

He would always agree with her, nodding his head as he stared out the window, for he could never say it. Alone, looking at the lights scattered across the dark, he never told her that to him it seemed dreadfully empty. The stars were too small, lost among the black. Their light was cold.

They always felt so cold.

* * *

A breath of fresh air was what he needed. Desperately. He begged for it as the fire intensified. His lungs were burning, his skin peeling off in the terrible heat. It hurt much more than he thought it would. He had hoped he would be dead before he felt anything, but luck never really liked being around him. If it wasn't for the black wrapping around him, he could breathe. He could…he knew he could.

The fire that erupted in his torso spread throughout his limbs, and he choked. He choked inside it, clogging his throat. Dimly, he could hear the scream of his opponent echo in the empty vacuum of black, absorbed in its bottomless depths to simply be lost. Tighter, tighter it choked him, his body breaking from the pressure. He was going to die. He knows that he would die. Nothing could survive such torture as this, nothing, not even himself…especially not him.

A voice called out to him, reaching out, like a hand through water. He lost his sense of feeling throughout his body, but he saw someone grab his left hand, clinging to him fiercely as the fire burned all around. But he couldn't feel it. He realized he couldn't feel anything. And that should have been good, except there was this this floating sensation, and he could see how his arms were bursting.

A thought flashed before him, vivid and strong. Survival. It hit him with full force. He needed air, fresh air. He wanted to stand on solid ground, to look up into a blue sky. To run through dirty city streets and wide open fields and see what the world was made up. But he would fall, fall away into the dark alone. And he had never lived, never truly lived.

I don't want to die…

He slipped down, watching something golden float in the fire, winking at him from the lucid light, glimmering in that wide space of obscurity. He was falling, he never knew that death could hurt so much, even if he could feel nothing at all now. Maybe that was why.

"Shadow!"

And all he saw was red, filled with stars that busted along with him.

* * *

Everything changes.

The burning dies down, all things around him seem to melt away, moving around him. He can't focus for they keep spinning around his head. He tells it to stop but it only goes on, faster and faster. His eyes grow dizzy from the strain. It's a whole new kind of hurt. Reaching inside, unearthing faces hidden in the dark, looking at him. But it's too much. He wants to scream, but he forgot how to. It all moves around him and all he wants to do is sleep.

But everything is changing.

And all he could do was watch.

* * *

"He is quite remarkable. The doctor actually did it!"

"This is a breakthrough in history! To actually create such life…ageless…"

"Look, he's waking up!"

He opened his eyes, struggling to lift these things- eyelids. A hanging glass bulb shone over him, a light that was much too bright. He felt cold for some reason, a briskness that set into the skin, digging. He tried to lift his head, but his limbs felt like it weighed tons. He sat up slowly on the cold metal table. In the dark, he saw the shapes of living beings around him, all decked out in flowing white coats, talking to each other in hushed whispers as they stared at him. He could barely make out a clock in the background of a wall, ticking away softly. He didn't know where he was, only that it was dark.

He glanced down at himself swiftly, partly to know what was there, mostly to avoid the strangers eyes. There were black quills covering him, a white tuft of hair on his chest. Streaks of red were on his arms and legs. He was a…

Wait…but…what was he?

He tried to identify the things around him and could actually place which objects were what. A natural understanding somehow, but…he could not recognize his own appearance. His mind racing, he looked cautiously at the beings before him. Then the coats swished in front of him like fluttering wings as they whispered more fervently, eyes bright.

"Dr. Gerald, you did it!" said one white coat to the other with a frizzy moustache who just nodded. The whispers intensified into something fearsome, hissing, making the creation feel tense and uneasy. His eyes darted among each person in the room. He could understand their language somehow. It all made perfect sense. He wanted to speak but it was difficult. His voice caught in his throat and his lips would not form the words. He tried several times to ask a question, to ask what he was, where he was. But he only succeeded in little murmurs that turned into nearly inaudible whimpers.

Several of the beings, humans he realized, turned to him, hearing his attempts at speech. He felt uncomfortable in their gaze and almost wished for a place to hide. No, he did not like this place. No.

One human walked up to him easily, the one with the moustache, the one called Dr. Gerald. "Shadow?" he voiced.

The creation looked up in response. A click went in his brain, recognizing. He was…Shadow. His name was Shadow. It made sense.

"Shadow," said the human again. "Can you walk?"

The creation did not know. He just knew what walking was, but not if he could walk. But for some reason, he wanted to. He felt he should for this human. As if that was how it was supposed to be.

Shadow slipped off the metal table, planting his bare feet on the hard ground. Immediately, he collapsed face-first. His legs could not support him and buckled under the weight. His body shook as he laid on the ground, trembling. He did not want to look at the human's face. He felt… embarrassed. He was embarrassed.

"It's okay, Shadow," said the voice from above him, patient and gentle. "Try again."

The creation pushed himself off the floor until he was on his knees. The human's voice seemed to ease him in some way. He felt like he needed to do this, for himself, for the human watching over him. Slowly, he crawled forward, knees scraping across the floor. He heard the scribbling of pens on paper, felt eyes staring at him with such burning interest. He crawled toward the human that spoke to him, finally getting used to the weight of his limbs.

"There you go," comforted the voice. "Now, try to stand."

Slowly, painfully, Shadow struggled to his feet, balancing precariously. He feared he would fall again, so he moved his legs apart, trying to create a strong foundation. His arms spread out, keeping the fragile balance.

"Walk."

Following the voice, he lifted one foot up to move forward. For a split-second he had almost lost his control on the equilibrium, but quickly put the foot down. One step. He repeated with his left foot. Two steps. Then again with the right. Three steps.

Wobbling but moving forward, the newborn walked toward his creator. Although it was pitch black in the room, Shadow could define the curving of a smile on the human's face. Proud? Was he proud of him?

"Extraordinary!" cried one scientist.

The exclamation brought Shadow out of his concentration, making him fall to the hard floor again. Stars burst across his vision when he hit his head. A bright flash of pain clouded his senses and his body was heavy and stiff once more. He felt arms gather him up, placing him yet again on the cold table. Footsteps moved away from him, mixing with fading voices.

"It will take some time for him to adjust. Although he may not look it, he is actually only an infant. We will prepare him first before he is let out."

Let out? What did that mean?

"What do you plan to do, Doctor?"

"He will go through a series of tests to determine his stamina. I will watch his progress, and determine when he will be ready to leave. It will take some time, but I'm sure that it will be quite worth the wait for the final result."

Hearing the voices go, Shadow sat up quickly, seeing the humans called scientists and his creator leave him all alone in this dark room. Fear swam through his head. No, why were they going? Couldn't he come with them? He did not like this place. It was too cold and dark. Making a small sound, he started to get off the table.

Before he went out the door, Dr. Gerald turned around, that same patient look on his face. "Shadow, don't worry. You are safe here. Nothing can hurt you. I promise that I will come back."

But-

The door closed with a resounding boom, later accompanied with the turning of a lock. He was alone. Frightened, Shadow looked around the obscure room, the darkness shrouding everything. He was not certain if there were even walls in here except the one where the clock hung by its side. But he didn't want to find out.

Sighing, he brought his knees up to his chest, the light bulb above illuminating only him and the table. The rest of the room was left untouched, a smothering and thick blackness. He felt completely helpless in here. He wanted to say something, but still his voice refused. The harsh light in the dark shone down on him, lending no warmth. Shivering, he curled up on the table, laying on his side, hiding inside himself, wanting to block out the sharp brightness.

No, the light was never warm here. He shut his eyes, losing himself in troubled sleep.

The clock ticked away. It was twelve o'clock. Midnight.


End file.
